


Start With Courage

by Reading Redhead (readingredhead)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Episode: c01e078 The Siege of Emon, F/M, Missing Scene, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingredhead/pseuds/Reading%20Redhead
Summary: Vex might not need Courage to get her through this night, but Percy does. (Picks up right when Vex's door closes in ep 78 and is honestly a lot less smut, a lot more Percy having a hard time shedding his more metaphorical demons...) Warning: reference to past sexual trauma and description of dissociation.





	Start With Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Note the summary - no explicit discussion of past abuse in the fic itself, but Percy is certainly living in the aftermath of it.
> 
> Thanks to [Araine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araine) for the beta!

Percy knew, as he crafted his plan for the night, that it would likely be thrown out the window just as quickly as any battle plan Vox Machina’s ever concocted. Insofar as it’s possible, he’s prepared for this reality that all his preparations won’t be a match for the woman on the other side of the door.

When Vex greets him in a smile and nothing else, Percy spares a brief prayer of thanks to the gods that none of Vox Machina’s battle plans have ever gone _ this _ off target.

He’s still juggling the bottles of alcohol as he follows Vex into her room, and he really isn’t sure how he sets them down without any of them breaking, but somehow he manages, and a good thing too, because it means that when Vex practically launches herself at him, his arms are free to catch her. And then he stops thinking about the mechanics of the thing because Vex is _ in his arms_, _ naked_, and kissing him soundly, and for a blissful moment there is simply no room for Percy to feel _ anything _ else. His whole being is a confusion of pressure and sensation, Vex’s warm firm mouth against his and her arms around his neck and his hands, shocked into action, coming to grasp the small of her back, the bare curve of her waist. It’s enough to undo him. He lets out a sigh that becomes a moan as Vex _ moves _ against him.

Still not breaking the kiss, Vex moves her hands from where they’d tangled in his hair and fumbles to remove his cravat. There’s a moment, where her hand cups his bare throat, that sends a cold shudder down Percy’s spine. Her archer’s calluses rasp along his stubble and he _ feels _ it—but he also feels another hand (not safe, not _ hers_) ghost along the pulse throbbing in his throat.

_ No_, Percy thinks, _ it’s Vex, I’m safe. _ Who else but Vex could make such quick work of the cravat one-handed, nearly as expert as Percy himself? Vex’s fingers splay possessively across the base of his throat, Vex’s other arm snakes around his torso, pulling him closer, and this is what Percy wants, this kiss, this woman, this one bright light, but he’s starting to feel dizzy. Is he breathing? He suddenly can’t tell

He tries to pull away gently, but his head is filling with smoke and he trips and stumbles backwards over his own feet, stumbling into the door. He presses his palms against the heavy, cool wood and squeezes his eyes shut, but not before glimpsing the look of confused self-doubt that flashes across Vex’s face.

Percy has to say something so Vex knows it isn’t her, he isn’t rejecting her, but all that comes out is, “Vex, I’m so sorry.” He steels himself, reaches for his wit like it’s just another gun for him to draw, but his guns and his wits both have been left behind tonight, and Percy comes up empty-handed and still shaking. “I just—give me a minute.”

Percy hears her pace ever so lightly away. He’s fucked this up, just like he knew he would, but that line of thought leads down no road he wants to follow, so Percy musters what’s left of his will and focuses instead on the press of his hands, of his back against Vex’s bedroom door, and tries to breathe his way back into his body.

An indeterminate number of exhales later, the fog begins to clear.

“Percy?”

He opens his eyes to see that she’s donned a deep green dressing gown, which she holds tightly wrapped around her body. His peripheral vision just captures the tension in her crossed arms before he lowers his gaze, anxious of eye contact, to linger instead on the unexpected smallness of her bare feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says, again. “This...isn’t the ‘later’ I was hoping for."

“Well, that’s good to know,” Vex responds, trying to sound casual, but Percy sees how she shifts her weight nervously from one foot to the other, uncertain, keeping her distance. He could reach out for her, she’s close enough, and he _ wants _ this, oh how he wants, but he’s afraid, too—afraid to touch her again and _ feel_—someone else.

“Percy,” she whispers, drawing out the syllables of his name in that way she has, soft and low and calling him back to himself. “Darling. What’s wrong?”

“Pretty much everything, or haven’t you noticed?” he asks, clawing his way back to flippancy. It doesn’t feel as good as he thought it might.

“Is it—is it because of what happened when you died?”

It would be easy to say yes, and not even entirely a lie—but Percy’s standards are higher than that, for Vex at least. The woman who met him with the bare truth of her body (of her heart) deserves his honesty in return.

“No,” Percy says, still unable to meet her gaze. “No—this is about...earlier than that. Before I even met you.” He takes a deep breath in, lets it out in a harsh huff. Even his fine words and aristocratic eloquence can’t help him find an easy road through this terrain. “Let’s just say that my other experiences with—er, _ this_”—and he feels the flush rise into his cheeks as he gestures awkwardly with one hand at the space between them—“haven’t been precisely…pleasant.” He swallows, tries to forget the feeling of a hand at his throat.

There is a moment’s silence so profound that Percy can _ hear _ the moment when Vex understands what he isn’t saying. “That fucking bitch,” she says, her anger cold and inexorable. It puts Percy in mind of the glaciers that carved out the valleys the Alabaster Sierras thousands of years before anyone had ever dreamt of Whitestone. “I'll kill her for this.”

Percy surprises himself by managing a rather weak laugh. “You, er, already did,” he says.

“Yes,” Vex says absently, “too quickly. But—Percy?”

He looks up, reluctant, unsure what he'll find when he meets her eyes, surprised to discover that for all the cold rage he has heard in her voice, her expression is soft.

“Have you done—_this _—since...?”

Percy shrugs. “A few times. Mostly to prove to myself that I could. And mostly while more than a little bit drunk.” He sees her glance flick down towards the bottles piled haphazardly near his feet. “And never—never when it _ mattered_.”

He waits for the moment when she tells him to leave, waits to see the reluctance in her face that he knows he deserves. But it does not surface. Instead, Vex asks, “Can I touch you? It’s okay to say no.”

The mix of shame and hope is too strong to let him speak, so Percy just nods, and Vex closes the distance between them. She lifts a hand to cup his cheek, then rises up on tiptoes just a little to kiss him. Percy breathes, in and out, against the safety of her lips, and when he realizes that he can, he kisses her back.

After a moment she pulls away and drops her hand from his face, and Percy hopes and fears that she’s going to pick up where she left off. But instead, she offers up a small smile before bending down to retrieve the bottles. She never did belt the robe and it’s fallen mostly open now. 

Vex straightens up, catches him looking, and gives him a wink before walking slowly over to the bed. She props the bottles on the nightstand, then takes a seat on the edge and pats the bed beside her. “We can do as much or as little as you want, Percy,” she says, with an intensity that belies her even tone. “But to start—come have a drink with me?” she asks. “I believe you said we’d start with Courage.”

Percy lets out a breath he hasn’t quite realized he was holding, and crosses the room to sit beside Vex. He has no idea what will happen next. But he owes Vex—he owes _ himself_—the courage to find out.


End file.
